


Darkness Through 'Til Light

by Sarek and Amanda Archive Maintainer (Selek)



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/M, Mary Stacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 01:03:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selek/pseuds/Sarek%20and%20Amanda%20Archive%20Maintainer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarek relives some aspects of his life after Spock's death.</p><p>Written by Mary Stacy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkness Through 'Til Light

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: I had no plans to write again so soon, but thanks to Julianna putting an idea into my brain—I knew that Broken Wings would not be expanded, but...
> 
> And then the starter on my car died in Friday's parking lot on Saturday, and I had nothing to do but sit in the car and write for an hour. This is a first for me in writing from Sarek's POV. I hope you enjoy...

Darkness Through 'Til Light

Mary Stacy

PG

Sa/Am, Sp

 

Summary: Sarek relives some aspects of his life after Spock's death.

 

[Author's Note: I had no plans to write again so soon, but thanks to Julianna putting an idea into my brain—I knew that Broken Wings would not be expanded, but...

And then the starter on my car died in Friday's parking lot on Saturday, and I had nothing to do but sit in the car and write for an hour. This is a first for me in writing from Sarek's POV. I hope you enjoy... ]

 

Part One

"I don't suppose that you saw Ja' te'ar today for those new cuttings she was supposed to be sending my way?"

"And why would you assume that I would forget such a thing? They are on your workbench in the garden."

Playfully, Amanda reached across the table and gently swatted his hand. Quickly, he captured the hand in response and she laughed. These times at home, when he would let the mask fall and delight in his wife, were all he asked of life, and never seemed to be frequent enough at times when duty would call him aside. 

"Would you like some more che-chi?"

"It is quite good."

"Well, give me my hand back and I will pour you some more."

Sarek felt the cool advance of her bare foot along the length of his left calf, a tempting promise for events that would be played out later that evening. He held her hand for another long moment, giving it a quick squeeze before releasing it.

"You know, I can't believe how expensive this has gotten recently."

"You are worrying about money now, my wife?" he questioned her as he held up the glass to savor the heady sapphire brew. They had been introduced to it on one of the first missions Amanda had accompanied him on, more than fifty Terran years past. From that time onward, she had always managed to find a flask in some hidden corner of the market to surprise him with every few months.

"Of course not, silly, its just I remember when we were first married and I could buy it for..."

Amanda's voice trailed off as he found himself surrounded in sudden darkness. He could hear the echo of his son's distant call in his mind and as he reached out across the vast expanse to touch it, it was lost. His mind reeled back in with the tatters of a little used, but until this moment, always present bond. Something had happened to Spock, he was sure of it, and it seemed the glass had broken in his hand…

...They had given their only child the gift of life so many years ago, and now their son had returned that gift to him. His son. How many years had gone by since  
he had allowed those words to even cross his mind? Sarek looked down at the veins in his hands, considering the blood now running through them. How would one ever be able to compute the odds for this cycle of events? That blood that ran through those veins was now in part his son's blood. And as he turned that thought over in his mind, he realized he would like to think that some small portion of Amanda had made it through the filters and raced throughout the course of his body as well, bringing it nourishment, sustaining him, healing his spirit and his body.

"Sarek?"

He turned from his mediation and stood slowly at the sound of his wife's voice. The healing trace had far advanced the process, but still it would not do well to push himself too quickly. He put on a neutral face and turned to meet Amanda's eyes.

"It's about time to go."

He knew she did not like to intrude on his mediation, but she had been hovering as close she could these last few days, and he had allowed it, knowing that he owed her much for keeping things from her. Amanda liked to say, "payback is a bitch" in private and he supposed, when she deemed him well enough, her husband would find out just how much she intended to mete out. For now, he would let her attend to him as she desired, and if it could be admitted, that attention was something he always found desirable.

"Indeed." 

He turned to leave the room, but as he did, she took hold of the sleeve of his tunic, and repeated his name again, this less of a question than a statement.

"Sarek."

He raised his brows in question of the slight worry lines that appeared between hers. "My wife?"

"Is it really all right now? I mean everything? Not just physically, but do you think…"

She always had a way of letting her thoughts trail off, waiting for him to finish them for her. It was a part of the rhythm of their lives, that their minds would intertwine like this from time to time, reassuring one another of the strength of their connection. He brought himself close and allowed himself the luxury of caressing her chin with his hand and then reached up as if to erase those worry lines. If he would have his way, she would never have had need of them. "Between Spock and I?"

She nodded, hopefully in response.

"Let us say that we have come to an understanding."

She moved to lightly kiss his hand and smiled. He knew she had long desired a truce between the men in her life, and was often frustrated by the fact that she had a husband renowned for his negotiating skills everywhere but home.

 

Hearing even those guarded words from him, Sarek knew that would bring her great happiness. And he found they gave him a two-fold joy, to be able to say them, not just for her sake, but for his own as well.

They held their eyes and thoughts as one for a precious few moments before the chime broke their spell, signaling their escort had arrived.

"We are packed then?" he asked as they pulled away and she laughed, knowing in reality he had full confidence in her ability to have them ready and able to get where they needed to be in an admirably timely manner.

"No thanks to you!" Amanda squeezed his hand for a brief moment before letting it go to release the door. 

 

He watched as she crossed the room to greet their escort, the happiness of the day filling her heart and reverberating through the room. It had been so long since this sense of completeness had been a part of his household. She looked up at her husband in anticipation, and he answered it, by looking the newcomer in the eyes squarely and nodding in greeting.

"My son."

There was a moment's hesitation, as if the word had been forgotten in long disuse. But finally, a reply.

"Father."

..."Sarek!"

He looked down at the emerald drops falling to the white cloth below, the glass now shattered in his hand.

"Sarek?" Amanda was at his side now, her voice filled with urgency and fear, "What's wrong?"

Her pulled her close to him, taking her within his arms, heedless of the open wound in his hand. It was little next to the one he held in his heart, one which he knew he could not keep from her, and one which he must now inflict on his wife as well. Sarek let the name fall in a rasp from his throat.

"Spock."

 

 

Part Two

 

If he had left it to Starfleet channels, it might have been days or even weeks before they would have received any definitive notice. This was the one time in his life when he truly felt no guilt at "throwing his weight around" as Amanda would put it. He had requested, no demanded, immediate answers, even before the word had made it through the proper channels. What Starfleet had heartily denied at first was later admitted to with "sympathy". And when that occurred nothing would have satisfied him but full disclosure of all facts, including Genesis. He had lost his only child and Starfleet was to blame.

He now stood alone in the empty shell of a bedroom, long abandoned for other, more desirable surroundings light years away. The trappings of a lost childhood laced the edges of the room, star charts and the remains of long forgotten "experiments". For the most part it had taken on the atmosphere of a little-used guest room, for a guest that all too rarely visited. Now its owner was gone from them to return no more, and the room echoed with memories, both pleasant and painful. He picked up a neglected book, left on the bedside table after one last visit home, and a scrap of paper fell to the floor at his feet. It made him think of Amanda, always stuffing scraps into the pages of her books, to hold her place or to mark a passage that she planned to return to. He bent to pick it up, his hand brushing against another object hidden in the shadows of the bed. He grasped the object, bringing it into the light, recognizing it as part of the T'eish'taveh totem that had been given to Amanda a great many years ago by a shaman in the Western Hills, to help ward their child from danger. It had always amused him how after Spock's birth, she had so readily accepted Vulcan's goddesses and gods, even adopting T'eish'taveh as her own personal protector. When he had questioned her, she had smiled and kissed his cheek, telling him she would have deities that looked like those she loved, what more could she ask for?

Had she come into Spock's room and in her anger at T'eish'taveh's inability to keep that long ago promise, to protect their child, flung the piece against the floor? Turning it his hands, the broken image even now still held the rage that she had vented here alone, and he realized that she did it to protect him from the outburst that she could no longer control. Gently, he placed the now forsaken goddess by the bedside. It had been a source of consolation to his wife for many years, and he would honor it for that. He sighed and turned back to the paper, still lying on the floor. Sarek bent to pick up the stray fragment of his son's life, his attention now drawn to the section of parchment in his hands. The ceremonial script was elegant, but the contents still had the ability to elicit a response from him. It was Spock's acceptance as an acolyte into Gol…

...It had seemed to Sarek that just as he and Spock were settling into a comfortable dialogue, father and son once again, the scales were tipped with such a sudden and unexpected shift that they sent any normalcy "out the door" as it were. It was as if their only son was wasting his life on a seesaw of first indulgence and then total denial, with no logic or reason Sarek could discern.

If Spock's first choice had run counter to all his father stood for in a public life, this was like a slap in Sarek's face to his private one. He had tried for so many years to teach his child the difference between suppression and denial of emotion. Why had that lesson been so difficult in a household where both parents obviously cared not just for their child, but also deeply for one another? Now Spock sought to toss all remnants of that lesson aside. 

To go to Gol meant the severing of all ties, the breaking of all connections, the denial of all that is material, the total eradication of all emotion. And this time, this time it was his son's decision to put aside the relationship between father and son which had so slowly and carefully been mended and nurtured over the last few years. And while Sarek would, as a Vulcan, have to accept this, Spock's new choice was far worse, for it would also sever ties with a mother whose heritage it had seemed at one time had finally been accepted, but which would now be totally erased.

Where it his choice, he would have refused to attend the severing ceremony. Some of his people took it as an honor to release an acolyte to Gol. To Sarek, it seemed an affront to what he had spent his life trying to show – that a middle path was possible. But he came for Amanda's sake, not able to deny her the last time she might see their son before he abandoned all on the path of the initiate.

"Xcha'ala'at Sarek, es bein ta."

"...look upon he who you have called son one last time. He is no more."

"Che un et Xcha'ala'at Sarek."

It had been a long time since he had heard his wife addressed as someone devoid of status, and he bristled at the designation. But these were the old ways, and there was no acknowledgement of anyone or anything that was not Vulcan.

"...He is no more."

Amanda was keeping her "brave face" as she called it, hoping right up until the end that their presence there would cause a change of heart in Spock. But it was not to be. They watched as the massive gates to the sanctuary swung closed, leaving an impenetrable barrier between them and their only child.

…A sudden thump from down the hallway pulled him out of the past. Calmly, he walked toward the source of the noise, which seemed to be coming from his own bedroom. He entered the room to find not only his own clothing, but his wife's as well, scattered across the bed as Amanda stood struggling with the clasp of her  
traveling bag.

"My wife, what is the difficulty?"

"It's this damn bag. I can't manage to get it open."

He bent down to inspect the latch, first calmly testing it, then a bit more intensely, before declaring his prognosis. "It seems to be broken, Amanda."

"Yes, I know that, but I thought maybe..."

She went to reach for the bag again, then suddenly, and without warning she burst into tears. He caught her in his arms and pulled her near.

"I'm sorry."

"Amanda, my wife, the cause is more than sufficient." He held her tight, feeling the fragile weight of her body, a delicate cage for such a strong spirit. He had always marveled at the endurance she could wring from that slight frame, and he feared one day she would push it too hard. He smoothed the hair from her brow gently kissing the crown of her head, as it lay nestled on his chest. Taking the corner of his sleeve he brushed it against her cheek to catch the tears that she struggled to control.

"I know, I'm just going to have to get over this before we leave. It wouldn't do for me to break down in the shuttle."

"Amanda, perhaps it is best you remain here at."

She pulled back, the tear-stained eyes suddenly filled with fiery determination. "Xcha'ala'at Sarek of Vulcan, don't you dare think you are going to Earth without me!"

He started to speak, but thought better of it. When she was like this, there would be no reasoning with her. He sighed in resignation. "Amanda."

"Don't Amanda me, Sarek," she responded pulling from his hold, "I am going. End of argument."

He opened his mouth ready to offer his logical reasons for why she should stay, but was stopped before a single word was allowed to escape, by the firm set of his wife's chin and the dogged determination in her eyes. Sometimes, the only logical thing to do was to give in. '"We will need to leave as soon as possible," he finally replied, leaving her to resume the packing, As he reached the door, she called to him and he turned to meet her eyes.

"Sarek, I love you, you know that don't you?"

He sighed, not in resignation but in the pleasure of hearing those words that it seemed had been not said enough in the last few days.

"Amanda," he said her name quietly, in the way she knew he was not just repeating the syllables, but the meaning of the word behind it.

"I know," she replied back and he could see that she had come close to tears again. Before that could happen she quickly shifted the subject, " Find out  
when your shuttle will be ready..."

..."Sir?"

The seesaw was once again "back in action", as Amanda would say. He looked out of the large expanse of windows in his office, across ShiKahr to where his home lay, then to the desert beyond, wondering what new twist of fate was in store for them. Amanda had always held out hope, and it seemed she had been a better judge of her son's disposition. But as happy as she would be, how many times could either of them be expected to go through losing and gaining a son? 

"I respectfully request the use of your shuttle."

Sarek let a deep sigh of resignation escape from within. He set his shoulders back and ramrod straight turned to face his only, much prodigal son. "Does this mean you have turned away from the way of the ascetics? You have found no answer in Gol?"

"Xcha'ala'at Sarek, if it is possible to discuss Gol at a later period. Time is of the essence. I need to leave as soon as possible."

The use of his ceremonial title made Sarek wonder just how much of Gol Spock had left behind and how much he had brought back with him. He punched the com unit. Whatever the source of this unexpected conversion, he would welcome it if for no other reason but Amanda's sake. Right now, it did seem best to give into the request, before another sudden change of heart occurred.

"Ready my shuttle for my son's use. Give priority clearance for a departure as soon as possible."

"My gratitude--"

"Father?" Sarek suggested.

"My gratitude, Father," Spock responded.

…Sarek stood staring at the com unit for several moments, his mind still refusing to relinquish the hold of memories. He had truly tried again and again, but each time Spock seemed to throw a new hurdle in front of him, drawing a new line in the ever-shifting sands, and as Sarek closed in on each one, his son would move back and draw another. Now the line was drawn that he could never cross until his time in this life had been spent. 

"The shuttle?"

Like a sleepwalker trying to awake from too deep a slumber, Sarek pulled himself out of his thoughts with much effort. There was no point in regretting what had or had not been between father and son. He had a final task to complete for all of three of them before any could hope for peace.

"Dear? Are you all right?"

Amanda drew next to him and gently stroked his arm in encouragement. He looked down at her softly and grasped her hand, holding on tightly and squeezing it in reassurance.

"It will be ready by Nighttide," he replied. "We will depart for Earth after the evening meal." 

 

 

Part Three

 

He walked with Kirk in silence, his mind filled with a hundred questions for which he had no answers. Perhaps Sarek had been foolish to think that all he needed to do was find Kirk and his task would be completed. He felt tired, and for the first time in his life, he truly felt every one of his 117 years bearing down upon him. His mind raced with what he would need to face when he returned to Amanda. Amanda, who, no doubt, had by this time paced the entire length of the Presidential Suite at the Four Seasons countless times during the length of this day. First Spock's death, now the possible loss of his katra. Had the gods really been so disapproving of his life's path that this indignity be inflicted not just upon him but upon his wife and child as well?

And what would he tell Amanda? Everything was so close to the surface and raw. After he viewed the ship's log and the last painful moments of their son's life, he was glad he had stood firm, insisting that she not accompany him this day. But she would ask, and it would be a struggle.

They had made a sharp turn and came to a stop. A young security officer blocked the way.

"Your Excellency, Admiral Kirk, we're sorry but this corridor—there's a broken water pipe further down the hall and we're experiencing some shorts in our security system. You'll need to go up past the Academic offices."

The Academic Offices – he had been there before, not so long ago…

"...and I find it very amusing that after all this time, in the end, it's me you followed into teaching."

He heard Amanda's laughter behind him as she spoke to Spock, filtered through the bureaucratic mumbling of the Chancellor of Star Fleet Academy. "Official" tours were generally a chore, this one no different than the countless tours on countless planets he had suffered through since childhood, when his father took him on a mission for the first time.

"I can't say how delighted we are, Your Excellency, to have you and your wife as our guests here at our headquarters today. And to have your son joining our teaching staff is a great honor."

Sarek could just hear the play for more funds at the next council session that would no doubt be made before the afternoon was up. But son or no son, he was a representative of his people's conscience, and when the time came, as always, nothing would sway him from his duty to vote otherwise.

They had finally, it seemed, come to an understanding, he and Spock. He would tolerate what he could not change and Spock would accept that his father would never fully approve of his choice of career. And at least this new position was an improvement for his son in Sarek's eyes, away from any need for violence, preparing his students for the dangers of the unknown rather than facing them himself. It gave Amanda a great sense of peace in knowing that their son was no longer "out there somewhere" but back where she could give a name and a sense of place to. He would have to admit that it gave him a sense of security as well. The dangers faced in the Academy would only be theoretical ones.

" I think you'll enjoy teaching, Spock. And I will have to admit that I'm happy that you'll be stationed safely on Earth."

As Sarek turned to wait for his wife and son to catch up with him, he admitted secretly to himself that he was enjoying the exchange between mother and son. It was so rare that either of them had the chance to converse with Spock in such a relaxed manner, adult to adult, as it should be. He wanted to savor the moment, knowing they would be leaving Earth within the next two days and who knows when they would be able to cross paths again.

" My wife…"

"...your wife?"

Kirk was asking him something? What would he tell Amanda?

They had exited the building now and he looked up into the sky gathering his thoughts. The day had turned cold and damp and he flung his cloak over his shoulders, pulling it close.

"I will tell Amanda as much as I need to. And as little as I can. Kirk," he paused for a moment, "if you valued my son's friendship as I believe he did yours--"

"Ambassador," the admiral stopped him, "you don't need to say more. I promise you, we will meet you on Vulcan."

Sarek nodded in reply and glanced down at Kirk, "Until then."

With a sweep of the cloak he parted from the admiral in front of the expanse of Starfleet Headquarters. Spock had trusted these "friends" and time and again they had proven themselves to be true to him in life. Now if it only held that they would honor him in death as well. Sarek turned for a moment before entering his limo, watching Kirk briskly walk off in the distance. He could only hope that the next time they met, it would bring a peace that this meeting did not. He eased himself into the limo as his security escort slid the door shut. Settling into his seat, now his only immediate task would be preparing to face Amanda. And it might well be the most difficult task he had faced on this day filled with many.

He played out the conversation with a hundred variations on the way back to the hotel, trying to surmise each question in advance. There were but a few short blocks left to gather his fortifications before the limo pulled up to the hotel. It was a distance which was far too short for reasoning, yet far too long for his heart. Sarek wondered as he rode in the lift, accompanied only by his security escort, if any of those he had seen in the course of the day had an idea of the true turbulence that struggled within him.

At some point after he had entered the building, the oppressive cloud cover had broken just enough and the large floor to ceiling windows in the living area revealed a setting sunset, a vast expanse of horizon framing the lone delicate figure at its center. She didn't turn when he came in, but continued to look off into the distance.

He stood for a moment uncertain of what his next action should be. But his wife made it for him.

"It's like home isn't it, all dressed in gold and red? At one time, I didn't think that there would ever come the day when I would be here on Earth calling another world home."

She let out a laugh, but it was a brittle one, and he came to her side and gently turned her away from the window. She had been crying, there in the room alone. Sarek enfolded her in his arms and she burrowed her face deep within his chest.

"It was bad wasn't it? I didn't even need you to be near for me to feel it."

He took a deep breath to speak, but before he could, reaching up she took her two fingers and lay them on his lips. She pulled herself back to look up into his eyes, and he could feel himself releasing all of the anger and pain of the day into her open and welcoming heart. She let her hands caress the lines of his face, lines that had seemed to have visibly deepened over the last few days. Then she pulled his face down to hers and they kissed long and slowly, and when they pulled back there was nothing more to say as they stood fixed in the last rays of the dying sunlight. It was time to go home.

 

 

Part Four

 

Sarek looked over at his wife and the look in her eyes rent his heart in two. He had questioned giving her the hope that the fal-tor-pan might even be a remote possibility, knowing how she would hold on to whatever slim odds it might have, just as she always had. Their lives had been filled with miraculous feats of coming against seemingly insurmountable odds and beating them. Why would she feel any different this time? He had considered keeping the idea from her, but knew that instinctively, she would ferret it out, knowing he was holding back something. It was better that he had "come clean" with her, as she would say, then to have her find out another way.

The attendant placed the heavy gold front piece on him, securing it in place, then set to arrange the folds of the cloak behind him. Secretly, he would have wished for her to be preparing herself for the ceremony as well, not just watching him. But she was afraid, afraid that if this did fail, that she would lose control. She would not have the wife of Xcha'ala'at Sarek break down in front of all Seleya. No matter how he had reassured her that it meant nothing to him, she would not, could not bring herself to chance it. He understood and accepted. She had long ago learned to keep her more emotional moments private between the two of them. He could not ask otherwise of her now. So, she stood there, framed in the doorway, watching as he was dressed and readied. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then stopped and held back until he motioned the attendants to leave them.

Securing the door behind her, she slowly walked to him and let her hands slide over the highly polished cabochons that now adorned his chest.

"I always think how grand and noble my beautiful husband looks in this."

The smile on her face belied the tears that were welling in her eyes. He caught her hands and looked deeply into the gaze she offered up to him, filled with both hope and fear. With his right arm he pulled her as close as the frontpiece would allow, and with his left, tilted her chin upwards, bending to place a single kiss, first on her forehead then ever so gently and tenderly on her lips, holding for a few too brief beats before pulling away.

She let her hand trace the folds of his tunic, and gently slipped her hand between them before pulling away and slowly walking backwards to the door, never taking her eyes from his for a single moment. He let the wash of her emotions as she let them reach out to him. Then she turned and in one brief moment was gone, leaving him alone.

He straightened his shoulders under the weight of his burdens. It was not just the ceremonial clothing and jewels, but the inner burdens that now lay heavy upon him. He allowed himself one deep breath. It would be a long night and day before he would greet these walls and his wife again. Whether in joy or sorrow, he would not know but could only hope. And as he left the room his hand reached to the small object that his wife had tucked away in the pleat of his tunic. His fingers could still feel a hairline crack where the break had been, but the Goddess was whole again once more. Perhaps T'eish'taveh would look favorably on her own that night.

 

The End


End file.
